In Twilight
by PursuingMary
Summary: The boys investigate a series of mysterious animal mutilations near Forks, Washington and reunite with a couple old friends along the way. Alternate title, "Twilight Blows". I had to do it. Don't deny it. You've considered it. I just made it happen.
1. Chapter 1

_**… Lowman's Motel …**_

The door swung open and a man entered carrying a six-pack of Pabst Blue-Ribbon under one arm with two candy bars, still in their wrappers, hanging from his teeth.

"Oowwn nnnynng?"

Sam looked up from his laptop as his brother set his keys and the beer on the dresser and let the candy bars fall next to them.

"Well, have you?"

The man at the table blinked as his brother handed him a beer.

"Excuse me?"

"Have you found anything?"

Scrolling back to the top of the Peninsula Daily News webpage, Sam spun the laptop around.

"I think so. Forks, Washington. Mutilated animal carcasses."

His brother ran his hand over the track-pad on the laptop and quickly scanned the article, not really picking anything up before sitting on the nearest of the two beds.

"Cattle mutilations? Horses, maybe?"

"No, actually, mountain lions and grizzlies."

Dean frowned and waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"Mountain lions … and bears," he muttered, twisting the cap off his own beer and sitting back against the headboard. "Oh, my."

Sam rolled his eyes and returned to the website.

"I don't see why it's our problem, Sammy. Animals maul other animals. It's just nature."

"Dean, they're not just mutilated. They're … dried-out."

"Dried-out?"

"Yeah, and fast, too. One of the lions was tagged, and was alive and well one day. They found his shredded carcass the next, completely withered. There are a couple also, though, that people have found dead and opened, but only dry in their extremities, as though whatever did it was interrupted or something."

"Are you really so bored here in beautiful," he paused to read the motel stationary, " 'Smithville' that you're asking me to investigate some "mysterious" cougar jerky in Washington? It's probably just some overgrown hillbilly, tired of the old lady's pot roast."

Sam navigated to another website and nodded, "Maybe, but maybe not, and … it's not just a couple, Dean. The Washington Department of Natural Resources has kept an ongoing investigation for almost five years. They've got nothing on this thing."

"This thing," the elder repeated with a measure of disdain.

"We've checked out less."

Dean finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the bin between the beds. Looking back at Sam, he was met with an inquisitive stare.

"So?"

"Forks, Washington," he grumbled. "Sure, I guess."

* * *

_**… Highway 110, North of Forks, Washington …**_

"Yeah, thanks, Bobby. Later."

Sam pocketed his cell-phone and twisted to reach into the backseat. He returned with a tattered leather journal and began flipping pages.

"What'd Bobby say?"

"He says he's heard of similar mutilations, but different animals and in Alaska; bison and brown bear … the occasional moose."

"Did he say who was doing it?"

"No. Alaskan conservationists aren't investigating anything openly and it seems to be more of a hotspot for paranormal groups."

"Great. A bunch of space-cases. What are you looking for in Dad's journal?"

"His entry on cattle mutilations. Here it is. And he references a 1923 article from a Wisconsin Wildlife journal about bobcat carcasses found drained of blood."

"What else does it say?"

"That's it. Guess he never gave it too much thought, either."

* * *

**_… Olympic National Park …_**

The skin was drawn tight; the mouth caught gaping open and the eyes wide and dull. The spine and ribcage were easily observed and a shriveled tongue hung from between its yellowed teeth. The head was posed at an awkward angle, presumably due to a broken neck.

Dean nudged it with his foot.

"Hello, kitty."

Sam ran his hand over the bristled fur on the animal's back. At his touch, the hairs broke away from the skin, dry and dead. He cast his brother a wary look, wiping his hand on his jeans.

"She looks a little underweight," Dean observed.

"_He_, you mean," Sam corrected, gesturing vaguely with a knife he'd pulled from inside his jacket pocket.

"My mistake." Dean studied the corpse and said, "I thought the bodies were ripped apart? This one seems pretty intact."

"Yeah," said Sam, standing. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking it starved to death."

Sam almost laughed and shook his head. "Dude, starved to death? Out here? In a forest?"

"It could happen."

"Sure, it could," Sam mumbled incredulously. "That, Dean, would be supernatural."

Kneeling beside the carcass again, Sam pressed the blade into the space between two ribs. There was a hollow _tooft_ as the chest cavity was punctured. He opened a space big enough to look inside. When he withdrew his knife, a cloud of dust and the musty stench of dried tissue came with it. The knife had pierced through what used to be the cougar's right lung, but for all it looked now, it could have been an old sponge, forgotten and left in a dusty corner.

"I think he needs to wet his whistle," Dean mumbled, crouching low and examining the opening.

Sam frowned and stood up.

"I don't know of anything that dries a body out like this."

"And leaves the skin intact? You mean, besides aliens?"

Sam ignored him and went on, "It had to drain from somewhere."

Taking hold of one of the legs of the creature, Dean lifted it a bit to look at the underside of the body. Something caught his eye and he rolled the corpse onto its other side. There was a gaping bite wound just above the big cat's shoulder.

"I don't think it's a hillbilly."

When they returned to where they'd parked their car, they found a tall Native American man leaning against the hood. He stood straight when he saw them.

"Um, can we help you?" Dean asked as he approached.

"My name is Jacob Black. I saw you with the lion."

"You know anything about it?"

"There have been others like it; several, over time. A ten-minute hike through those trees," he nodded in the direction he indicated, but the two men didn't follow his gaze, "would lead you to a bear that met a similar fate."

"Have you seen who does it?" Sam asked. "What they look like?"

"Are you so sure it's human?" asked Jacob

Sam shook his head and shrugged.

"Just asking questions."

"Have you seen it?" Dean repeated.

The Native American smiled.

"I have seen flashes of them through the tress. They move pretty fast when they hunt."

The brothers exchanged a look just before a cell-phone started to ring. Dean fished it out of his pocket and said, "It's Bobby. Hello?"

He put a hand to his open ear and strained to hear.

"You're cutting out. I'll call you when we get back to town." He closed the phone and as he turned back to the car, said, "So, Jac—"

He was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_**… Forks, Washington …**_

They pulled out of the drive-thru lane and waited for a group of teenagers to amble across the exit. A tall, pale-skinned boy with untidy hair gave the Impala half a glance.

"Shoo-wee," Dean whistled. "If he got any prettier, I'd sleep with him."

Sam made a face, chewing on a fry. Dean saw his bemusement and waited to pull into traffic without another word. One of the kids, a girl stumbled and fell in the middle of the crossing and the pretty boy helped her back to her feet. She brushed him off, sulking.

"I don't get it," Sam muttered.

"There isn't anything to get. I was joking."

"No, Dean, not that. I mean the mountain lion. I'm supposed to believe one vampire sucked all the blood from a fully-grown mountain lion. Not to mention a grizzly bear?"

"Maybe he's a big boy."

Sam shook his head and popped another fry into his mouth.

Dean's phone rang.

"Crap, I forgot." He answered the phone, "Bobby. Yeah, it looks like it may be vampires. … I know. They're becoming a hell of a lot more common than I ever expected. … Well, an Indian found us. He knows more than he let on. … Yup. Call me if you find anything. Later." Dean dropped the phone onto the seat beside him. "We're the old hats at this game. Bobby's never dealt with vampires, so he probably won't be much help, but he's going to look around."

They pulled into the parking lot of their motel and moved inside. Sam booted his laptop and typed in a search keyword while Dean sorted out the food.

"You should pay more attention to which fry box you're working on. They're both half-empty."

"Quileutes."

"Gesundheit."

Sam smiled and continued clicking through various websites.

"Quileutes," he repeated.

Dean tried to form the word silently but gave up.

"It's the local Native American tribe. Their reservation is on the coast, near LaPush."

"That's not far from here."

* * *

_**… Quileute Indian Reservation …**_

Two grim-looking men barred their way.

"You know where we can find Jacob Black?"

Neither said anything.

Dean smiled and tried again.

"Jacob Black. You seen him around?"

"What has he done now?" a voice called. They looked and found a heavyset man with a wrinkled face in a wheelchair about twenty paces behind the other two.

"Just want to talk, is all. Do you know him?"

"I should; he's my son." He gestured for them to follow him. "Let them through, Aaron; Gabe."

The two men moved aside as the wheelchair turned and started off. They followed in silence for several paces until the man spoke again.

"My name is Billy. My son told me you were looking at one of the dead mountain lions. Ugly like that, aren't they?"

Sam nodded and said, "Jacob said that there were several bodies like that one."

"Oh, yes, but not all at once, of course. One or two every few months. Same with the bears. All turned to leather and dust."

"What causes that, do you think?"

The wheelchair stopped and, twisting around, the man narrowed his black eyes at the visitors.

"Have you not seen enough to know?"

Dean and Sam both opened their mouths to speak, but Billy stopped them with a wave of his hand.

"Come inside. It's best to not speak some things so idly."

He led them into a small cabin, and offered them a seat.

"We're still working out the details on a couple of hunches," said Dean honestly. "Some things—"

"Just aren't adding up," finished Sam.

When he smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepened and Billy said, "Total blood-loss and dehydration?"

Dean nodded, "To name a few."

"My people have told stories of the 'cold ones' for many years now. I have told many of them to my son, but he is young. Young men don't always follow the ways of the old."

"Have you ever seen them? These … 'cold ones'?" Sam asked.

"We have all seen them. They are not hiding. We are watching, always. It is our job to protect our people."

Dean's face took on an inquisitive frown. "Your people? I thought we were talking about mountain lions."

"And I thought you might be a better liar," Billy replied easily.

Sam couldn't hide a smile.

"Are the 'cold ones' known by any other names?"

"You mean like "vampires"?"

Sam and Dean glanced at one another.

"We've never seen a vampire do that to an animal before," explained Sam.

"I'm beginning to doubt that you've ever seen a vampire at all."

Dean bristled. "With all due respect, chief, we've had more than a few run-ins with your 'cold ones'." Billy laughed a deep, resonant laugh, but Dean continued, "Even a few that 'renounced the old ways' and drank cattle blood to survive."

The laughter suddenly stopped, and if Dean had intended to say anything else, it was forgotten.

"There's more to you than I thought, hunter."

Sam's brow furrowed in feigned innocence. "Hunter?"

"Cut the crap, boy. We've seen others like you in these territories for years. Dusty jackets, muscle cars and lots of questions. Many come, but few leave. I underestimated your experience before. Perhaps, you _have_ seen the 'cold ones'. Still, if you had, you wouldn't have come so unprepared."

"I think we can handle it," said Dean.

The older man laughed again. "So be it, hunter."

* * *

**_... Olympic National Park …_**

By the small light in the trunk, Dean unscrewed the lid from a jar. Sam handed him a handful of arrows and watched as his brother dipped them in a thick, liquid that looked almost black in the dim light.

"Unprepared," Dean scoffed, handing the arrows back to Sam, "Load 'er up."

Sam loaded one of the arrows into a crossbow and placed the balance of them in a duffle slung over his shoulder. Dean snapped a clip of consecrated rounds into a semi-automatic handgun and tucked it into the back of his jeans, his jacket concealing it nicely.

"You know that won't work on them."

"Yeah, I know, but it'll slow them down a little. They'll waste time making fun of my toy pistol. Give us a breath to take care of them the right way." He retrieved a machete and gave it a quick twirling swish before sheathing it and snapping it onto his belt. He winked at his brother and shut the trunk.

They moved from where they had parked to a heavily treed ridge overlooking the place where they had found the dead cougar earlier in the day and hunkered down behind two large firs. Sam caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he tried to focus on it, it was gone.

"I saw something," whispered Dean, straining to see into the distance.

"Whatever it was, it was fast."

They jumped when they heard the scream of a cougar, closer than either would have liked.

"You know, this probably wasn't the smartest thing we've ever done," Dean thought out loud and Sam, with anxious eyes, was inclined to agree.

"Look, Dean, over there."

The elder Winchester peered around the tree and saw what looked to be person darting from behind one tree to another about fifty yards away. His transition between trunks was fluid and so fast, their eyes could hardly register that there was movement at all.

"What the hell?"

A branch snapped nearby and both of them spun. Dean grabbed his pistol and readied his aim toward the heavy undergrowth some fifteen feet away, though he had no visible target. Without any further warning, a large mountain lion leapt from the thicket toward him, but was caught out of the air mid-flight by the flitting person whose momentum bore the animal to the ground.

He gave the cougar's head a vicious wrench and the neck snapped loudly. He bared his teeth and bent towards the animal, but stopped suddenly, sniffing the air. He turned and saw Dean breathing deeply, still holding the pistol, though limply and pointed at the ground. The boy flashed his teeth, which didn't look fanged at all, and hissed menacingly, starting for Dean who fumbled with the pistol.

_Shooth!_

He was stopped three feet away by one of Sam's arrows tagging him in the chest, but instead of piercing through, it just left a dark stain and hole in the pale shirt he was wearing. Dean could clearly see now that it was the pretty boy that walked passed his car earlier in the day. He stared while his attacker grimaced and put a finger in the dark spot on his shirt.

"What …" He began as he looked in Sam's direction. "Don't you dar—"

_Shooth!_

He was interrupted by another arrow hitting him in the stomach and bouncing off.

"What is this?" he asked and after a moment, said, "Dead man's blood? Eww. Freaks." Dean frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut-off by the boy saying, "What archaic hole did you crawl out of?" Another pause, then, "Oh, that was _your _Impala." He smiled a little at Dean. "I have a girlfriend."

Dean looked horrified and fired three rounds in quick succession with no effect.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't say it."

_Shooth!_

Another arrow bounced off his shoulder.

Dean shot Sam a look.

"Yeah, Sam, stop wasting the arrows," said the boy, and looking at his shirt, he made a face. "_Blech_. And I liked this shirt, too. I could tear you to pieces."

There was a deep growl in the same thicket from which the cougar had leapt. There was a shuffling and Jacob Black emerged.

"Go ahead, Edward. Give me a reason."

Edward rolled his eyes and turned away from the Winchesters who took their cue to go back to their car, and quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

_**… Forks, Washington …**_

Dean looked grim over breakfast as he listened to one end of a short phone call.

Sam jotted down a name. "Thanks, Bobby," he said, putting the phone in his pocket.

"What did he say?"

"He gave me the name of a bookstore in Tacoma. Run by a couple of hunters, he says they've had a few run-ins with some of the clans up here."

"Hunters, Sam? Have you forgotten the last vampire hunter we ran into?"

Sam shrugged. "Bobby says they can help."

"Has he worked with them before?"

"No, but his sources are usually pretty reliable."

"Maybe Dad knew them; what're their names?" Dean asked, trying to read the name upside down and reaching into his bag for his father's journal.

"Um, Blackburn; Blackburn Books."

"Blackburn?"

"Yeah." Sam's forehead wrinkled as he thought, but something fell into place. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "The ones from Nebraska?"

He began to shrug say, "Who else?" but stopped and looked at Sam.

"Do you think it could be …?"

Dean grinned, "You bet your puppy dog eyes it could be."

"When do we leave?" Sam started, but Dean had already grabbed up his jacket and pack and was headed for the Impala.

* * *

_**… Blackburn Books, Tacoma, Washington …**_

The bell over the door rang.

"Sorry, it's Sunday. We're closed," she said, hardly looking up.

"But the door's open."

"But the store is closed," she insisted, shuffling papers on the desk and coming up with an art-gum eraser. She went back to her work.

Dean cleared his throat and the girl sighed loudly, slamming her eraser onto the table.

"What is your—?" she started but stopped when she looked up. "Well, well, well," she smirked. "D.J. Winchester." Dean's smile faltered, but she went on, "Is Sam with you?" He rolled his eyes and gestured over his shoulder.

"He's parking the car," he said. "And don't call me that."

"What are you going to do about it?" she wanted to know, one eyebrow raised.

"I'll—I'll just," he tried, shaking a finger at her and searched for the threat. The girl stood and came around the desk she had been seated behind just as the bell rang again and Sam walked in.

"I guess that's their lot around back," he said, hardly noticing the girl at first, but smiling when he did. "Hey, Sophie."

"Yes, it is and you can park there anytime you like," she smiled. "And most folks around here call me Ronnie."

"Whatever, _Sophronia_. You'll always be our little Sophie Sue," Dean said, consolingly.

She shot him a cold look.

"Never thought I'd see you boys all the way up here."

"Us? What about you?" Dean asked. "This is a long way from Paxton."

"Oh, you know. You never know where something's going to take you. We came up here a couple years ago and liked the area enough to settle. Well, 'settle' as much as folks like us can," explained Sophie. Giving them both a brief once-over, she said, "It looks like you two haven't found that place, yet."

Sam shrugged and Dean shook his head.

"Not yet."

She pushed a loose strand of straight brown hair behind her ear and turned from them.

"No need to stand in the doorway. Come on in. Lock it, though, please. I meant to do it earlier, but I'm glad I forgot." She led them through the store and to a square card-table. "Can I tempt you?" she asked, bending at the waist to reach into a small beverage refrigerator.

Sam's head leaned a little to one side, eyes fixed.

"You sure can," Dean muttered. Sam snapped out of his reverie and punched his brother in the arm. Dean recoiled and looked away from the girl, holding up his hands in surrender.

Sophie stood and turned around, holding two beers in each hand.

"Thank you," Sam said as he and Dean each took one. Sophie motioned to a chair for Sam and held another bottle out to Dean.

"I like to start slow," he said, declining the offer.

"Since when?" Sophie quipped, raising her eyebrows, the beer still poised in front of him

Sam sniggered as he sat down. Dean narrowed his eyes and snatched up the beer.

"Your cousin isn't around, is she?"

"Upstairs; doing some research for a … friend," she finished simply.

He glanced around for a staircase, and she pointed him toward a short landing.

"Stairs are at the end, can't miss them."

Dean thanked her and left the two of them at the table. Music was filtering in and out as he ascended the stairs and when he reached the top, he looked around the apartment. There was a hallway straight ahead, and he saw a door ajar. He made his way toward the door and peered inside.

She was milling around in front of a built-in bookcase and running her finger along the spines of innumerable volumes, looking for something. He stepped cautiously into the room and watched her. Her finger stopped on a weathered tome and she strained to read the gilt that was heavily worn. Dean tried to think of something witty to say, and then thought better of it and that, perhaps he should have knocked.

"D.J. Winchester," she greeted without facing him.

His arms dropped to his sides and he asked, "Do you two have to call me that?"

She turned around and pushed up the small rectangular lenses perched on the end of her nose.

"No, but I kind of like it."

"How'd you know it was me, anyway?"

"You smell of gun powder and rock salt. Just like your dad."

He smiled a little and, twisting the cap off, held out one of the bottles.

"I thought you might be thirsty."

She returned his smile and took the bottle, "Always; thanks. Please, sit."

He sat in an overstuffed armchair in the corner. "This is cozy. How long have you girls been up here?"

"About three years, now. Our grandfather passed away and left us a pretty good inheritance. A long list of jobs led us here and we saw this building for sale. We couldn't pass it up."

"So it's the simple life now?"

"Simple? No. We still hit the road when the time comes. Mostly, though, we just help out hunters passing-through. With this sort of library at our disposal, research isn't as tedious as it used to be."

Dean nodded half-heartedly, looking at the walls lines with books.

"Ever hear of the internet?"

"Cute, but I think I could do you one better," she said, moving to sit at her computer.

"Come on, Ace, it doesn't have to be 'better'. You could just do me." As soon as he said it, she knew he was waiting for a reaction. She looked at him over the rims of her glasses and he winked.

"Glad to see dying didn't change you, Winchester."

He grimaced.

"I guess you heard about that one."

"You mean _those two_?"

"I did really die once, you know. The first time it was a—"

"A shapeshifter, yeah, I heard," she interrupted, clicking the mousebutton. "Come here, look at this."

Dean stood and walked to where she was seated. He started to lean over her, but moved and leaned on his palms on the desk beside her.

"What is all that?"

"I've got every book from my grandfather's collection logged into this database. Half of those books have been out of print for two centuries, and the information isn't well-circulated. Plus, I've entered most of Dad's notes, as well as Uncle Jack's. If there's something out there and there's information available on it, I've probably got it loaded in this database. The internet can eat its heart out."

"There haven't been enough hours in the last three years for you to complete all that," Dean said, watching her scroll and skimming over the topics in the list.

"I had help. Just before we settled up here, I had met a mullet-head that attended MIT. He was a research and programming madman."

"Ash? From the Roadhouse?"

"A friend of yours?"

"Hell, yeah. He helped us out many times before he … before he died."

She closed the database.

"I heard about that, too. This isn't a fair fight. Demons play dirty." She took a moment to really look at the man beside her. "It's good to see you, DJ."

His eyes met hers and he nodded, "You, too."

With that, the girl reeled back a fist and took crude aim. He realized what she was about to do too late to block her or move away and the blow connected squarely in the stomach. He coughed and doubled-over.

"What the hell was that for?" he gasped.

"For making me think you were dead. Twice! After everything else, you had to go and do _that _?!"

He spluttered and leaned against the wall.

"I mourned you. I went to your grave in St. Louis. If it hadn't have been so damned cold, I would have cried over you."

He caught his breath and stood up.

"Really?"

She wagged a finger at him, but didn't continue, rather, grabbing her beer and taking a long drink. There was the sound of people on the stairs.

"Ace," began Sophie as she entered the room followed by Sam. When she saw Dean grimacing and rubbing his stomach, she asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Like a million bucks," he muttered. Sam gave him an inquisitive look but he shook his head and waved him off.

"What is it?" asked Ace.

Sophie gestured vaguely at the two men and said, "They shot a vampire … with dead man's blood and consecrated bullets."

Ace looked shocked for a second before it became obvious she was trying not to laugh. She snorted and lost the battle.

Sophie joined her. "I know, isn't that great?"

Dean frowned, "What?" He looked at his brother who shrugged, hands in his pockets.

Ace collected herself and apologized, "I'm sorry. You really should have tried to get in touch with us before. You could have gotten yourselves killed." She looked at the other girl and asked, seriously, "How are they not dead?"

"It sounds like it was a Cullen; probably Edward, hunting mountain lion."

At that, the other girl sighed, "Aw, crap."

"Sam did say, though, that he advanced on Dean, but was stopped by Jacob Black."

Dean had heard enough.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on? Do you know these things?"

Ace ignored him and left the room, pulling her phone from her pocket and dialing a number.

"Sophie?"

She smiled at him like a mother would smile at a child who managed to somehow strike-out at T-ball, "Aww, DJ. Good try."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her and stormed out of the room.

Sam took his hands out of his pockets and approached the girl.

"What's going on, Soph? Do you know them?"

"It's different up here, Sam. We thought vampires were extinct. And some races are, or damn near, anyway."

"Some _races_?"

"But these," she continued without addressing his concern, "these clans are different. None of the usual tricks work on them. Dead man's blood doesn't do anything but get them dirty. You can't shoot them, stake them or cut their heads off. They're too strong."

Sam's brow knitted in confusion.

"There's got to be a way to kill them."

"Oh, they can be killed, but only by other vampires."

"Well, Jacob Black seemed to think he could do something about it," Sam reminded her.

She gave a little smile to no one in particular, "Jacob is different, too."

"He's a vampire?"

"No, not at all. But _different_." She placed a hand on Sam's chest and leaned in close to whisper, "And if you want my advice, Sammy; I wouldn't go messing with him, either."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm just giving you a friendly tip," said Sophie, starting for the door. "Come on, Sam, it's lunch time."

They made their way to the apartment's kitchen and the sound of raised voices.

"I don't need you to apologize for me," Dean was saying when they entered.

"It's called damage control, Winchester," spat Ace, pocketing her phone. "Someone's got to clean up the mess you made."

"I was just doing my job."

"And you wonder why you don't get paid well?"

Dean growled and noticed Sam and Sophie in the doorway.

"Come on, Sam, let's go. They can't help us," he said, but Sam didn't move.

"I think that's exactly what they're trying to do, Dean. Why don't we just sit down and talk awhile."

Dean took a deep breath and turned back to the table and took his jacket off, hanging it on the back of a wooden chair. He and Ace made brief eye contact before she turned away and pulled her dark hair up into a loose bun.

"Lunch?" Sophie suggested.

"Sounds great," Sam agreed, "Thanks."

Sophie went to the refrigerator but Ace shooed her away.

"I'll get it," she said and busied herself with gathering sandwich fixings. There was an awkward moment where the other three just sat at the table and looked at one another until Dean sighed irritably and started playing Tetris on his cell-phone.

Sam cleared his throat.

"Sophie was telling me about these vampires, Dean, and they're nothing like what we're used to."

He didn't look up from his game, but grumbled, "You think?"

The girl at the table explained, "We came up here looking into werewolf sightings, and happened upon the animal mutilations."

Sam stopped her, "Werewolf sightings?"

Sophie nodded, "Yeah. It's kind of my area of … expertise."

Dean glanced at her. "Werewolves?"

Sophie shrugged with a small smile. "I find them interesting."

"There are werewolves up here?" Sam asked.

"No," said Ace over her shoulder. "There aren't. But there are shapeshifters."

Dean dropped his phone and turned to her. "And they're still sucking oxygen?"

"They're not bothering anybody."

"Not bothering—?" Dean was stunned. "I think sitting around all these moldy books has infected your brain." He spun in his chair to look at Sam. "Can you believe this?"

Sophie leaned across the table and jabbed him in the chest with a stiff forefinger.

"You go after any of those shapeshifters, Dean Winchester, and so help me, I will make a bracelet out of your teeth."

Dean sat back and looked at her.

"She likes making jewelry, you know," Ace said flatly, her back still toward them. Sam raised his eyebrows and put his hands in his lap.

Dean shook his head and coughed.

"So, these vampires; I take it they're friends of yours?" he asked, resigning himself to the situation.

" 'Friends' isn't the word I'd use. We leave them alone," Sophie explained. "Our search for werewolves led us to the Quileute Reservation, and Billy Black."

"We met Billy yesterday. He told us about 'cold ones'," Sam affirmed.

"Sounds like he'd had a few cold ones," said Dean under his breath.

Ignoring him, Sophie went on, "Yes, and he told us about the legends of the wolf-men and the treaty between the Quileutes and the 'cold ones'; that they watched them and made sure they never bit humans. He never revealed their names, under terms of the treaty, but …" Sophie's voice trailed off as Ace set sandwiches in front of each of them and sat down.

"We learned soon enough. Take my word for it, boys, there _are_ bad vampires out there, if you can call any of them _good_," Ace told them, and with a pointed look at Dean, added, "And I don't like it, either, okay? You never know if they're going to turn, but as long as they're not hurting people, I'm not going to bother them."

"And they're not. Neither are the Quileute shapeshifters," Sophie put in.

Sam and Dean listened quietly while they ate.

"You want somebody to worry about, then worry about the bad vampires. They'll go after you without a second thought, and they're just as immune to our means of warfare as your friend was last night," said Ace. "We actually need vampires like the Cullens out there. They're the only ones who can step-in when there's trouble with the others."

"So the animals …" Sam began.

"They have to eat something."

Dean set his sandwich down. "You're telling me we don't have a job."

"In so many words."

"Unless you want to stick around and wait for the bad guys to pick a fight," Sophie offered. The Winchesters made a silent exchange.

"Even if they did, it would probably be closer to Forks. It's pretty quiet out this way anymore," the other girl deflected.

"Dean just said they didn't have a job to work anymore. I mean, hell. We haven't seen you guys in years. We have an extra room and a roll-away cot. No use in driving back to Forks tonight," Sophie persisted and the boys seemed to consider it.

"I don't see why we shouldn't be able to stay," Dean said, nudging his brother under the table. Sam shot him a look and kicked him under the table. "I'll get our stuff."


	4. Chapter 4

She set the bottle of tequila on the table and leaned in for a closer look.

"Wendigo?"

"No, I got this from a werewolf, actually," Sam said, holding his shirt open to show her four thin scars, parallel to one another on his neck and shoulder.

"Here's mine," Sophie said, lifting the hem of her shirt to show him a similar scar pattern on her side.

"Looks like he tried to gut you."

"Firm grip, is all," she muttered, but he didn't hear her.

"Is that a tattoo?"

... ...

Dean pulled his dad's journal from his duffel and held it out to her.

"What's that for?"

He shrugged. "Peace-offering. I thought you might like to put it in your database."

Ace took it in her hands and began flipping pages.

"Wow," she breathed. "He was thorough, wasn't he? This could take me awhile to enter."

"We'll come back."

... ...

"Wow," he said, putting her bra strap back in place. "That's pretty elaborate."

"It started out as just a few flowers between my shoulder blades. Then, after hunts, I would add another flower, or a vine, and it just grew into what you see today. What about you?"

"I have a pentagram here," he said, opening his shirt further to point to a small tattoo under his collarbone. "Dean has one, too."

"Bet those strait-laced Stanford kids didn't know what to think about that."

"I didn't have it then. Kind of wish, now, that I would have. It might have saved me some trouble awhile back."

She lifted an eyebrow.

"Sam Winchester? Possessed?"

"Once. That's were I got this," he pointed to circular scar on his arm.

"Looks like someone didn't want to let you go."

"No, they didn't."

... ...

"How's your Dad?"

"Retired and living it up in the Appalachians," she laughed. "If you can believe that."

Dean smiled, "What is this 'retirement' you speak of? You mean he _quit_."

"I mean, my mom about skinned him after he lost a fight with a poltergeist. It tore him up pretty good. He's just not as young as he used to be. Then she got sick." His face fell and he started to apologize, but she stopped him. "No, she's fine now, but she always liked the mountains and Dad promised."

They were quiet for a moment.

"It's kind of disillusioning, isn't it? My dad dying; your dad retiring. Guys like them … I thought were indestructible."

She nodded and closed the journal.

"I heard about your Dad, Dean, and I'm sorry."

... ...

"Holy …" Sam gasped, running his index finger along a jagged scar on her calf and ankle. "You're lucky he didn't get your Achilles tendon."

"I know. It still hurt like a bitch, but what can you do? Ace had to carry me the mile and a half back to the car." Sophie thought for a moment. "She was pretty pissed."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Sounds familiar."

"So, come on, Winchester. One-up me."

"Aw, hell, Sophie, I could beat that in my sleep. Check this out." He threw back another shot and pulled his shirt over his head, turning to show her a crooked scar running diagonally through the middle of his back.

"May I?" she asked and he nodded. She touched it gingerly and could feel the roughness of it. Its length was about a hand-span. "It healed incredibly well."

"Actually, I died from it," he confided, facing her. She started to say something but he stopped her. "It's a long story, but it suffices to say, Dean fixed it."

"You boys just can't stay dead, can you?"

"I guess you could say that it's just not our style."

... ...

"You can have this room, if you want," she offered, flipping the light switch. "First come, first served."

There was the sound of a glass bottle falling over and the muted _thwump_ of someone falling heavily onto the sofa as Dean checked out his accommodations.

"I may have gotten the room first," he said, giving his hostess a wry smile and wink, "but I think Sammy's getting served first."

Ace returned the smile and shook her head. "My mistake."

She turned to head back to her own room.

"Amelia," he called, standing in the doorway.

She stopped at the use of her real name and looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for the room."

... ...

Dean stretched and went to the door. He paused and leaned on the doorjamb to yawn and to try and remember which door he needed. It was dark, but there was a light on under the first door across the hall. The door opened and a shaft of light washed over him. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Sophie exit, wrapped in a towel and followed by a cloud of steam. He made for the vacated bathroom as she disappeared behind her bedroom door.

He was stopped at the threshold.

"Dude, could you knock?" Sam wanted to know only just managing to wrap the towel around himself before Dean appeared in the doorway.

Dean blinked and looked down the hallway and then back at his brother, still groggy.

"Jeez," said Sam, sounding irritated, but Dean caught the small smile he gave him as he pushed past and followed Sophie into her bedroom.

The elder Winchester remained in the doorway and waited a few moments.

Finally, he called, "Anybody else?"

... ...

She didn't hear it when he shuffled into the kitchen the next morning. One minute, she was flipping pancakes by herself and the next, there was a forehead resting on her shoulder.

"Oh, good morning," she said, surprised.

"You're making pancakes," said Dean without moving.

"Yes, I am," she confirmed.

"No one has made me pancakes … in a really long time."

There was a light prickling on her shoulder and she knew that his chin had taken the place of his forehead.

"Sophie is a 'pancakes-the-morning-after' kind of person," Ace told him. "Sorry, but I need to get a plate out of that cabinet."

Dean stood straight.

"Can I help?"

"Not if you want to get 'em while they're hot."

She put three pancakes on a plate and motioned for him to sit down. He saw the butter and syrup on the table and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when she set a jar of peanut butter in front of him. Dean smiled.

"You remembered."

"Sometimes."

"Am I eating alone?"

She glanced down the hallway and didn't see any movement. "I haven't heard them moving around yet."

Dean looked at her. "I didn't mean them."

Turning off the burners, she took another three pancakes that were already off the griddle and sat across from him.

"I got a call this morning from a friend of mine that lives near Forks."

"Oh?" he said, swallowing. "One of your … _special _friends?"

"No," she said, avoiding his eyes and working up a nonchalant tone. "He's another hunter."

"And?"

"There may yet be a job for you there. It seems that there's a girl that has fallen in with Edward Cullen."

"He told me had a girlfriend," Dean recalled, and wished he hadn't.

Ace frowned. "When did he tell you that?"

"The other night. Nevermind."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Well, anyway. He says the Black boy keeps a very close eye on her."

"Maybe she doesn't know what they are."

Ace sucked her teeth. "I think she does."

Dean's lip curled. "And she's still his girlfriend?"

The girl shrugged.

"Do you have milk?" he asked.

"Yes. Just a second." She retrieved the milk and poured two glasses. "Some think she wants to turn," she said as she set one glass in front of him and reclaimed her seat.

"Into a vampire?" Dean made a face. "What is with kids these days?"

There was a series of _thuds _before Sophie's door swung open and Sam bolted into the bathroom. Dean looked down the hallway.

"Sammy? Pancakes and peanut butter," he called.

There was a groaned reply and the bathroom door slammed shut.

He smiled and drank his milk.

"Could I trouble you for another?"

Ace set her empty plate in the sink and turned the burners on under the griddle.

"Good morning," Sophie greeted sleepily, moseying down the hallway in a purple silken robe. She took a place at the table and said, "Where'd Sam go?"

The toilet flushed.


	5. Chapter 5

_**… Forks, Washington …**_

"You hungry, yet?" Dean asked as they passed several fast food restaurants.

"No," Sam grumbled, head resting on the passenger door, eyes behind dark glasses.

Dean smiled and turned onto a side-street as Sam tried to sit up straight.

"So, what are we looking for?"

"Our pretty friend."

"We're just going to drive around and look for one kid?"

"Ace said he shouldn't be too hard to find. It's an overcast day, so he's probably more willing to be out and about."

"Overcast? The sun is blazing."

Dean cast him a look, "Whatever."

They were driving past a small park when the sun broke through the clouds and a dazzling glare caught their windshield.

"Son of a—!" Sam shouted, covering his eyes. "What is that?"

Dean squinted into the glimmering light and tried to find its source. When the clouds covered the sun once more, he blinked away the spots and looked to where it had come from.

"Yahtzee," he muttered, pulling the Impala into a parking space along the street. "Come on, Sam," he ordered, getting out of the car.

"I can't see, Dean. Where am I going to go?"

Dean looked in at him, and rolled his eyes. He slammed the door, "Whatever."

Sam held his head and groaned.

Dean started for two teenagers who were moving to sit under a large shade tree. The boy nuzzled the girl affectionately for a moment, but made a face and looked up.

"What is it, Edward?" the girl asked.

He turned his head and saw Dean. "This is my favorite turtleneck, Fonzie, so keep your dead man's blood to yourself, today, alright?"

"Who is that, Edward? Why is he bothering us? Make him go away," the girl said, nudging the boy toward Dean.

"It's alright, Bella," he said calmly, and her face took on a dazed expression as he spoke.

"Is that how you do it, mindreader?" Dean asked.

"She loves me foolishly, even though I could kill her if I wanted," Edward said, admiring the girl beside him.

"I love you, Edward. Your beautiness is so … amazing," Bella sighed.

Dean made a face of disgust.

"Could you really?" a voice queried. Edward jumped to his feet as Jacob Black emerged from behind the tree. "Could you really kill her, Edward?"

"Of course, I could," the vampire insisted.

Bella shook her head as if coming out of a great trance.

"Jacob? What are _you_ doing here? Edward, I don't know why he's here. Make him leave."

"Yes, 'cold one', make me leave."

"Eww," Bella said, slapping a bug on her arm. "There are bugs under this shade tree. Edward, make them go away."

Edward started to roll his eyes, but stopped himself and checked to see if anyone noticed.

"Edward, I'm tired of being outside, let's go somewhere else."

"Oh, shut _up_," Jacob and Edward said together.

She cast them both dark looks and crossed her arms over her chest. "Whatever. I'll just go by myself." The girl pulled herself to her feet and started to walk away. "Aren't you coming after me, Edward?"

Dean looked at Edward and said, "I could kill her for you."

"You're not coming after me?" Bella demanded loudly, trying to turn on her heel, but miscalculating and falling over. "Oww! My ankle. Edward, make it stop hurting!"

_Shooth!_

An arrow went through the girl's chest. Dean spun and saw Sam holding the crossbow.

"Sam? What are you doing?" he shouted, running towards the car.

Bella spluttered and fell backward.

"Edward …" she gasped. "Someone shot me … with a bloody arrow, Edward, it's disgusting. Make them stop."

Sam threw the crossbow in the car and slammed the door.

"Come and get me, if you must, but I am too hung-over to put up with that whining bullshit."

"Edward … take it out. Help me, Edward. … I'm fading …"

Edward knelt beside her body and touched the arrow.

"Help me, Edward … I'm almost gone …"

He leaned in close and whispered, "You should have listened to me … I told you they may try to hurt you."

"Ed … ward …"

"What do you see, my love?"

"It's like … twilight."

"Go, Bella Swan. Go into the twilight. I'll find you when I come," he promised, fingers crossed.

"But you … you're immortal …"

"Go …" he breathed.

A look of complacency washed over her features and she stopped breathing. He stood up and looked at Sam.

"Oh, crap," Dean said, jumping into the car and starting it up. "Get in the car, Sam."

Sam just held his arms out wide.

"Bring it, vampy. Want to kill me? It'll make my headache go away."

"Sam, get in the car."

With a flash, Edward was in front of Sam, catching him off-guard. He stumbled backwards into the side of the Impala. The vampire embraced him firmly.

"Thank you so much. I've been wanting to do that for months, but that damned treaty."

"Yes, thank you," Jacob said, appearing beside Edward.

Sam looked confused and a little perturbed that a vampire was wrapped around him.

"Oh, sorry," Edward said, releasing him.

"Come on, Ed, we have to clean this up before someone notices how quiet it is."

"Yes, you're right."

Jacob held out his hand and Edward took it as they turned away. Sam opened the door clumsily and slid into his seat. When the door closed, he slapped the lock.

"Dean?" he said, noticing the look on his brother's face. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Are hang-overs contagious? I think I might throw up."

"No, and I can't drive right now, so chew it back and let's get out of here."

* * *

_**… Blackburn Books, Tacoma, Washington …**_

Sam groaned under the icepack and Sophie patted his shoulder as he rested his head on her leg.

"If I knew it would do this to you, I'd have stuck with just whiskey."

Ace frowned at the younger Winchester and, leaning to whisper in Dean's ear, asked, "Is he faking?"

Dean nodded and responded just as quietly, "He started feeling better on the way back."

The girl smiled and stood up, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. She knew he was standing behind her, so she asked, "When are you leaving?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, moving to lean on the counter beside the sink. "We're kind of at the mercy of the job, but …" he glanced toward the living room, "it looks like Sam's planning on staying at least one more night." He looked at her and added, "That is, unless you need us to leave."

"Why would you think that?"

"Who's the hunter in Forks?"

"Just a guy."

"Is he the same guy you were doing research for yesterday?"

She furrowed her brow. "How'd you know …?"

"Sophie mentioned it."

"Yes, he is."

"Is he more than a friend?"

Ace leaned on the counter and scratched a spot on her temple. "Did she tell you that, too?"

"No. Is he?"

"Not all the time."

Dean took a breath, "What about right now?"

She shook her head, "Not so much."

The corners of his mouth twitched and he moved closer to her, fingers reaching out to brush against hers on the countertop. "Do you think I could take a look at your _database_?"

"Sure," she smiled and made casually for the hallway and he followed. Feigning a nonchalant glance toward the living room, her eyes met his. His hand reached to touch the small of her back, but she winked playfully and bolted for her bedroom.

There was the creaking of furniture and Dean looked over his shoulder and saw Sam and Sophie peering over the back of the couch. He shrugged and took off in pursuit.


End file.
